


Brothers In Arms - Run For Your Money

by starkind



Series: Iron Wings Collection [9]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Airplanes, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, M/M, Married Couple, Military Backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22307500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkind/pseuds/starkind
Summary: Though retired, Tony and Bruce are still considered legends of aerial combat. When an opportunity to pass on advice to younger generations presents itself, their reactions are bound to differ.
Relationships: Tony Stark/Bruce Wayne
Series: Iron Wings Collection [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/231990
Comments: 60
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CatBat82](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatBat82/gifts).



> All credit for this prompt goes to the lovely CatBat82 who challenged me back in 2019 to write something along the lines of "(Slightly) matured flyboy husbands training rookie pilots in their free time".
> 
> \--> I figured the boys did not have enough time during their stint in the USAF to obtain any official instructor license, but since this is purely fictional and the plot bunny had already been planted, it does make for a nice little (non-too-serious) addition. 
> 
> NB: The year is 2016 - which puts this verse's Tony at 46 and Bruce at 39 years.  
> NB II: Title explanation: https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=run+for+your+money
> 
> Dear CatBat82, I hope it is alright if I gift this story to you (and if not please let me know so I'll change it!)

"I got a request via email today."

Across the breakfast table, Bruce reached for his coffee mug, eyes still trained on the newspaper in his other hand. "For?" Tony's grin turned wide and endearing. "Flying lessons." That prompted Bruce to look up. Not a muscle on his face moved before he raised the cup to his lips.

"You don't need them. Yet."

His husband of almost eight years blew him a kiss on his middle finger. "Cheeky fucker. Some kid asked, says he's got the rec from Steve." That made Bruce frown. “Steve? Which Steve?” Tony grimaced. “Oh, come on, how many Steves do you know? Steve 'Freedom' Rogers. Although, no, actually he goes by Kent these days. Surely you remember him? We've been at their wedding coupl'a years ago.”

Bruce still looked part unimpressed, part indifferent.

“Why is Steve recommending us?”

“Because we're the best, my darling. Or maybe it was Buns of Steel who set it up?”

Bruce grunted. “Doubtful. And I told you not to call Clark that.” Still cheerful, Tony leaned back in his chair. “In any case, I asked the kid to give me a few stats and told him we'd be in touch.” With precise movements, Bruce put his mug down. His expression was guarded and wary. "We're not a flight school. Neither of us has an official instructor's license." Tony ran two fingers along his jawline as he hummed to himself.

"Not the point. It's meant to be a favor. Dude wants to learn from the best, who can blame him?"

"You're not thinking this through."

"That's what I have you for, babe."

"And if I say no?"

"Then you're just being crabby and not thinking this through either."

Bruce sighed for him to hear and folded the newspaper into a neat rectangle before tucking it next to his finished plate. "How is that supposed to work anyhow? We don't have a two-seater, and there is no way in hell you would want a civilian in one of our vipers. At least I know I don't." Mouth twisting, Tony's gaze strayed towards the milk jug and over to the windows of his beach mansion.

They were currently staying in Malibu for a few days of vacation after Bruce had worked long business hours to finalize an important M&A project that ended up with Wayne Enterprise as the successful buyer. The new technological branch was something that might even be a topic for Stark Industries' branch, but so far, the two of them simply enjoyed some rare, quiet downtime together. Eventually, Tony blew out his cheeks.

"You're just no fun, Bats."

At that, Wayne's smirk held a sardonic edge. "Why, I married you, didn't I?" Tony made a disparaging noise. "Oh, please." He dragged his buttery knife through the remaining flakes of pastry on his plate as Bruce got up, taking his coffee along. "C'mon, you said you wanted to go through the final email of the lawyers for the signing with me." Still miffed, Tony slipped his knife onto the plate and cast him a very exasperated stare.  
  
"Killjoy."  
Bruce's eyes held a certain impish twinkle.  
"Clothes are optional."

+

Two weeks later, back in Gotham City for his usual workload, Bruce had already forgotten about the incident. It was a Friday afternoon, a little before 4:30 pm, and he was looking forward to meeting his husband in Malibu later that evening. Then his phone rang, indicating an in-house call.

"Wayne."

"Mister Stark-Wayne is on line four, Sir. Shall I put him through?"

"Yes, please. Oh, and have a nice weekend, Dorothy."

His secretary sounded pleased upon the dismissal and wished him the same in return. The line clicked, and Bruce leaned back in his chair. "Tony." The first thing that greeted him was a heavy air gust on the other end. "Hi, babe. Just wanted to let you know I'll be home late today. ETA around 2200 or maybe 2230 hours." Bruce's eyes traveled up to the heavy clock on the wall atop the door.

"Where are you?"

"Still in Cali, actually. But I just had a spontaneous appointment, and -erm... yeah, lost track of the time."

Despite not wanting to, Bruce had to smile to himself. Tony's tech-binges were legendary and mostly ended up with him forgetting anything around him for hours. "Okay. If it's too much trouble, I can fly over tomorrow morning." Another strong gust of wind made him take the receiver further from his ear. Then Tony's voice filled the space again. "Nah, I do wanna see you. Get on the jet and keep me posted on your ETD."

"Alright. I'll send you a text after takeoff."

"Wilco and later, gator."


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce arrived in Malibu a little after 10:30 pm. Much to his surprise, Tony was there, casually leaning against his Audi R8, and waited until his husband had bid the corporate jet crew a good night and a safe flight back the next morning. A big smooch later, they sat side by side as Tony steered the sports car onto the fairly empty stretch of the PCH, headed for Point Dume.

"Everything worked out okay?"

Tony yawned a little into the collar of his hooded sweater. "Sure did." Despite his fatigue, he sounded pleased. Bruce stowed away his mobile phone. "Do I get some details?" Tony hummed noncommittally. "Purchased something." Now it was Bruce's turn to hum. "Please don't say it's another company. I don't want to hear about any merger or joint-venture in the next six to ten months."

"Nope."

There was a jaunty sound to Tony's one-syllable negation. Bruce cast him a brief sideways glance.

"Are you're up to something?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Because you've got that look."

"What 'look'?"

"That look that tells me you're up to something."

Tony patted his husband's left leg with an affectionate expression. "With your suspicious nature, you should've become a private investigator. Or a detective." They grinned at each other, then Bruce's shoulder implied a shrug. "Alas, I only became a pilot." His husband's hand started to run caressing circles into the fabric on his thigh.

"Thankfully you did, otherwise we'd never have met. Though I still remember when we hated each other's guts. Man, those were the days."

In the fleeting light from the streetlamps outside, the corners of Bruce's mouth curved upward. "You're changing topics. Spill. And hands on deck." With a sigh, Tony let his palm slide off his leg and gripped the steering wheel tight while slouching deeper into the seat. "I'll tell you tomorrow when I'm not dead on my feet." He yawned again, louder at that time, and Bruce turned to glimpse at him with a dark chuckle.

"Getting old, Iron? Want me to take over at the wheel?"  
Lightning fast, Tony's hand was back to cup Bruce's crotch and give it a gentle squeeze.  
"Just wait up you batshit brat when I fuck you through the mattress first thing tomorrow morning."

+

After sleeping in and indulging in the aforementioned carnal activities, they enjoyed a lengthy shower and lazy Saturday morning breakfast. Around 11 o'clock, Tony's mobile began to vibrate, its noise eventually prompting Bruce to look up from his newspaper. Tony's eyes, hidden behind a pair of reading glasses slid sideways to catch the caller ID, and he was quick to grab the device and put it to his ear.

"Hello?"

Various emotions flitted over Tony's face before it lit up in surprised enchantment. “Already? Wow, that's super early. I thought... well, great news in any case! I'll be over in half an hour. Do I need to bring something else along? No? Good then. Yeah, sure, ID's mandatory of course. Thanks. Bye.” He put the phone aside and reached for the final sips of his coffee. Alerted, Bruce bestowed a rather squinty glare on him until their eyes met.

“My delivery's here.”

“I gathered as much."

With a spring in his step, Tony pushed the chair back and got to his feet. "Gotta get ready to pick it up." Before he got the chance to dash upstairs to dress, Bruce caught him by the wrist. "What did you do?” Twisting his hand out of the gentle but still firm grip, Tony exhaled with fond exasperation. “I bought a plane, okay? A two-seater, to be exact.” To go with his puzzlement, Bruce released him on his own accord.

“... Why?”

“Flying lessons, remember?”

“Tony...”

“Yeah, I know, I know. But before you blow a gasket, come along and have a look.”

Trying to remain grumpy with his curiosity piqued did not work, especially since Tony was already headed up the stairs. Bruce gave up his glower after another thirty seconds and followed him into their dressing room. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his morning robe, and watched his meanwhile shirtless husband buttoning up a pair of faded jeans.

“Type?”

Finishing up, Tony reached for a pile of shirts and picked a dark-gray one. “L-39 C Albatros.” Bruce's eyes fell on the logo of the vintage band t-shirt and its bold print reading 'Don't Stop Believing' Tour 1981-82.

“Year?”

“1985, but in mint condition.”

Bruce gave a grunt that was hard to decipher.

“Price?”

“$350,000 but I got her for $285,000.”

Now Wayne's features spoke of incredulity.

“For an '85 model?”

Tony put on a winning smile as he snatched a pair of sunglasses out of a large and well-stocked display case made from dark wood. “With complete original papers and logs. No problems or accidents. The bird's been professionally maintained including cold-start engine test-runs. Now, will you stop Grinchin' and get dressed.”

+

"Geez."

It came out half-muffled from where Bruce was palming his mouth as their private airfield with its two hangars came into view. In front of them stood the aircraft in question. At the black-and-white-camouflage paint with red star markings on each wing that greeted them, Bruce groaned.

“I can't believe it.”

Tony killed the engine and got out of his car grinning like a child on Christmas morning, leaving his husband to trot after him with less enthusiasm in his steps. “Look at her, Bats. Ain't she pretty?” Thin lips quirked in sarcastic, derogative judgment. “Pretty ugly you mean.” Undeterred, Tony grabbed a good portion of his shirt front and dragged him closer to where the aircraft stood.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, paintjob's a given. Bit of tinkering's on my part, and you get the first trial flight. Ain't that something?”

“Something stupid for sure.”

“Don't worry so much, Bats. It's gonna be great.”

Bruce cast the newest addition another, rather sinister look.

“Famous last words, Iron.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony's t-shirt:  
> https://www.rockerrags.com/journey-vintage-concert-t-shirt-dont-stop-believing-1981-1982-north-america-tour-mens-grey/
> 
> Aircraft that served as a 'stand-in' for the purchase:  
> https://www.controller.com/listing/for-sale/195808805/1982-aero-l-39za-albatros-turbine-military-aircraft


	3. Chapter 3

“L39SW run-up is complete. Clear for takeoff.”

Behind him, in the co-pilot seat originally designed for the instructor but the one that would serve as the student's seat for their upcoming endeavor, Tony could be heard shuffling over the sounds of the running turbofan engine.

“Affirmative.”

While Tony had easily given the honors of the first trial flight to Bruce, he had trouble containing his fidgety nature. Despite the fact he had a set of controls as well, they had agreed on no interferences, which left him at the mercy of his husband. Seeing the engine was warmed up and idling along in a stable condition, Bruce fixated the elastic strap of his kneeboard on his thigh and adjusted his microphone.

“Ready, Iron?”

A huff over the speakers.

“Born ready, Bats. Now sweep me off my feet.”

Smirk hidden below his visor, Bruce eyed the high- and the low-pressure compressor gauge and gripped the control stick.

“Affirmative.”

Less than three minutes later, they were airborne, and Bruce was not holding back on the first set of complaints.

“Gear comes up too slow.”

“It's a trailing-link design. Sturdy. Solid. Heck, you can take off with one of these from any uneven ground.”

“Still too slow.”

Tony clicked his tongue and glanced out of the window across from him. His seat was placed taller for a better view, and he watched the trees become miniature green dots. “I'll look into it.” Bruce said nothing and instead pulled the stick back. They went into a steep incline and Tony was left to squint against the rays of the morning sun as they shot up high to arrive above the clouds.

“How does she handle?”

“Smooth and instantly responsive-”

“Ha! See?”

“-but also has a rather slow engine response.”

With a grunt, Tony flipped the shaded visor of his helmet shut.

“Bitch, moan, whine, Bats. Admit you're having fun.”

As an answer, the jet tipped sharply to the right to execute a series of barrel rolls. Its pilot quirked his mouth.

“It's not that bad.”

+

Fifteen minutes later, after taking the jet to the limit multiple ways and times, they touched down on their private airfield. As the whine of the engine slowly died down, Bruce's head appeared atop the back of his seat. His hair was matted, and his forehead showed faint imprints from the helmet lining. His eyes roamed over his husband's docile form.

"Doing alright?"

Tony, hair equally tousled, nodded and cracked his neck with two audible pops.

“Yep. Remind me never to fly shotgun with you ever again. Sheesh, you brute."

Wayne put up his best innocent expression.

"You wanted an expert, you got one."

Baring his teeth in mock-laughter, Tony got up to amble down the ladder after him. As they strode across the tarmac, Tony walked a few steps backward and gave the aircraft a critical once-over. "Think I'm gonna do an engine-swap on this baby. Get her lighter, faster, and more efficient. And you can bet your sweet ass it's gonna be me who'll take her for a spin.” Bruce fought down a smile upon the slight grumble in Tony's voice.

“You do that.”

He then looped an arm around his shorter husband's sweaty neck and pulled him close to press a kiss against a damp temple.

+

 _Four weeks later  
  
  
_The boy by the name of Peter Parker was 15 years old and had come all the way over from Brooklyn. He was accompanied by a cocky fellow who introduced himself as Flash Thompson, though their friendship seemed to have a weird dynamic. Tony greeted them and explained a bit about the day they were going to have as he walked them across the airfield.

“... and this is gonna be your taxi du jour.”

He made an inviting gesture towards the L-39.

“The closest thing to a fighter jet you guys can get your civilian butts into.”

Both boys gawked at the streamlined aircraft which stood gleaming proudly in the sun. Now that it had received a paint job and a complete overhaul of its engine and control systems, the jet was pitch black with a single silver stripe running horizontally across the hull. The tail fin was adorned by the sprayed-on contour of a silver-colored bat with spread wings, framed by massive iron bolts.

Just as Tony was about to give a brief introduction of the specs, he caught sight of a familiar silhouette standing in the open hangar door and smirked. “Ah, the mighty Captain Wayne.” Both boys swung around to look at the man dressed in khaki cargo pants, a black shirt, and a pair of aviator shades obscuring his eyes. Tony cleared his throat. "These young grasshoppers want to get a taste of the great blue skies."

From behind dark shades, Bruce studied them without any facial expression, which caused both Peter and Flash to shuffle under his stare. Eventually, Wayne gave a small nod. Tony hummed to get their attention. “Captain Wayne will be your second pilot today.” His mouth then stretched into a smile. “Don't be fooled by his Top Gun attitude. I'm the best round here. If you wanna know how it's done, you ride with me.”

A glimpse over at his still-unperturbed husband made Tony grin even wider. It thus prompted a quirked brow, but he ignored it in favor of clapping his hands and rubbing his palms together. “But enough of the pep talk, time's a wastin. Let's get you properly suited up and then it's a round of theory and basics.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Paint job inspiration:  
> http://www.twinbeech.com/L-39forsale.htm


	4. Chapter 4

After half an hour of explaining the minimum of flying 101, Tony called it quits on the theory front and went to seek out his husband, who had made himself scarce after the initial welcome. While Tony supplied their students with bottles of Coke and some light snacks, Bruce had seen to fuel the L-39 and making sure the battery bank in the nose held enough emergency reserve for any unforeseen events.  
  
Once the two of them re-entered their hangar-turned workshop, they overheard bits and pieces of a rather heated conversation.

“Just to be clear - you go with that Wayne dude.”

Peter pulled a face. “I organized the trip, man, what the-?” Flash clawed into the front of his overthrown flight suit and pulled him close so that they were face to face. “I drove us here so I get to choose, Penis Parker. And I don't wanna fall asleep up there in the sky.” At that, Tony cast Bruce a glance. When the latter gave an almost imperceptible nod, both shared a brief smirk before moving in unison.

"Yo, fellas, stop cozying up there, shit's about to go down."

Upon Tony's jaunty call, the boys swiveled around to face them. Tony crooked his index finger and made a come-along gesture at Peter. Flash Thompson made a move to step up and open his mouth, to which Tony held up a hand and gave him his best shark-like grin. “We were pulling straws, sorry pal. You and Bruce will have a good time.” With that, he clasped a hand on Parker's slim shoulder and steered him towards the exit.

“Now that's settled: I'm gonna preflight the aircraft, and you'll come along. I'll be explaining what I'm checking for and how to do it so you may be able to do it by yourself at some point." Peter, still reeling from the previous exchange, swallowed and was quick to nod along.

"Y-yes, Sir."

Tony released him to dip his pair of Ray-Bans lower and looked at him.

"Please don't call me Sir, I'm already struggling with coming of age. It's Tony."

"Yes, S... Tony."

He ended up walking his young pupil clockwise around the airplane. As they did, Tony pointed out all critical sight-gauges and fluid level indicators were located within easy reach while being on the ground, making ladders or platforms superfluous. “See, that's what you call user-friendly design philosophy. Doing a preflight of an Albatros is pretty easy.”

After Tony made Peter check his parachute harness and personal gear, though not without giving it a final, expert eye himself, they headed for the cockpit. “Next up, you gotta ensure the controls and switches are in their proper positions. Oh, and check the fuel quantity gauges, too. It's standard practice to always have full tanks before departure.”

Cheeks flushed from both the warm Californian weather and the tasks at hand, Peter complied, being smart enough to quickly grasp just what Tony wanted him to do. He also displayed a high level of nimbleness as he was asked to get up on the wing unassisted to check fuel caps and inspect the topside of the airplane. Tony stood aside, always ready to interfere or assist, and listened to Peter reading him the stats.

“Sounds good. And this means we're done and ready to go.”

One more time they scrambled up the drop-down steps, and Peter was instructed to sit in the back seat. "Turn on your headphones so you can hear me and air traffic control." While Peter did as he was told, Tony glimpsed out to where Bruce and a clearly-miffed Flash had walked up to stand at a safe distance and watched them strap in.

“Clear skies, Iron.”

Tony gave his husband a casual salute followed by a thumbs-up.

“See you in thirty, Bats.”

+

Tony brought them through takeoff and the climb with routinized ease and had to smile upon the noises of awe coming through the headphones.

“You're doing good there, Pete?”

“Yes, … yes. Wow, this is amazing, really!”

“Roger that. In the mood for a couple of fancy maneuvers?”

"... I think so, yeah."

At the slight hesitation in Peter's voice, Tony gave a soft chuckle.

"I'll make sure to stop before you puke, kiddo, no worries. Just let me know how you feel after each one, kay?"

"Sure okay."

After the first barrel roll, Peter went from whooping to laughing out loud.

"Geez, this is so awesome, man!"

Up at the front, Tony grinned underneath his visor.

"Glad you liked it. In for another one?"

"Heck, yeah!"

They combined another barrel roll with a sharp banking turn at higher speed, and Peter marveled at the view in and out of the clouds. Once they were back to going at normal speed and their preferred altitude, Tony flipped a few switches.

“Alright kiddo, grab the controls, you're gonna take over from here.”

“Whoa, really?”

“Sure. Your airplane.”

As soon as he was sure Peter was comfortable steering the L-39, Tony switched their comm to in-flight only.

“Say, that Flash dude and you are buddies?”

It took a few seconds until Peter answered; whether it was because he was focused on handling the airplane or not was Tony's best guess.

“No, I – we, no... we're classmates.”

At that, Tony hummed.

“He's a bit of an asshole.”

“With a lot of money.”

That time, the reply came instantly. Tony could not help but chuckle.  
  
“Oh, those are the worst.”

+

After half an hour, they headed back to the airfield. By instructions, Peter entered the traffic pattern until Tony ultimately took back over. Back on solid ground, Bruce stood at the tarmac waiting for them. Flash was nowhere in sight. Flushed and hyped-up, Peter was thoroughly ecstatic. “This was awesome! Tony said I was in command for almost 50 percent.” Beaming with excitement, he glanced at his instructor who nodded.

“Sure were, I only did the takeoff and landing and some minor stuff.”

He then made a move to high-five Peter. “Time for the debrief, Grasshopper. Head inside, I'll be with you in a minute. Oh, and go tell your buddy to suit up.” Bruce and Tony watched him jog over to the hangar. Bruce then glanced at the man by his side. “You're fond of him.” Tony threw his husband a scolding look as he pulled off his sunglasses. “Not like that.” Taking off his shades, too, Bruce rolled his eyes before pinching his nose.

“That's not what I meant. But he's already worshipping the ground you're walking on. That can be dangerous.”

Tony hummed, hands in the pockets of his flight suit. “Let's see how you fare with your student.” At that, Bruce's mouth curled with a worrisome amount of diabolic glee, which doubled in intensity as he slipped his dark aviator shades back on.

“Oh, I doubt it's going to be worship he'll be spewing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Info dump on pre-flighting an L-39 taken from various sources as follows: 
> 
> http://www.warbirdalley.com/articles/l39pr.htm  
> https://www.skytamer.com/Aero_Vodochody_L-39C.html  
> http://twinandturbine.com/article/l-39-albatros-fly-fighter-jet/  
> http://inspire.eaa.org/2017/02/28/things-i-wish-i-knew-before-my-first-flight-lesson/  
> https://www.flyingmag.com/flying-the-l-39-albatross/
> 
> the girl in this video probably enjoyed her flight as much as Peter did in this story (inspo vid:))  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tb3S55Ocjj4


	5. Chapter 5

  
Flash Thompson was still sulking to himself, busy typing on his mobile, when a shadow cast over him.

“We're ready. Do you want to go through preflight as well?”

Flash snorted in a negating manner, pointedly texting on.

“Hell, no. I wanted action, not boring maintenance.”

Bruce Wayne's aviator shades flashed in the sun.

“You might want to use the restroom beforehand.”

At that, Flash jammed his phone into his pocket and cast an obstreperous glance upward.

“I don't.”

The corner of Bruce's mouth lifted briefly.

“Suit yourself.”

+

Once they sat inside the L-39, Bruce wasted no time in getting the turbofan engine started up. Still, going through the necessary motions took almost five minutes, and after three of them, his passenger piped up. “Are we ever going to get off the ground, dude?” Eyes staying on the instruments, Bruce flipped a switch. “Affirmative.” Unsure about such bland disregard for his request, Flash squirmed and adjusted his helmet.

“I wanna go fast, man, you got that?”

“We will reach maximum speed at 16,400 feet.”

“Well then hurry up before I fall asleep back here.”

Captain Wayne spoke no further words and indeed, they began to roll across the tarmac seconds later. Bruce cast a brief glimpse over to where Tony and Peter lined up at the side to watch the liftoff. Upon seeing Tony's casual two-finger salute, Bruce raised his right hand and balled a fist. It was followed by a horizontal a v-sign, palm facing inward. At that, Tony's mouth parted in mock-shock before stretching into a wide grin.

Within minutes, they were airborne, but Bruce kept the jet at a moderate altitude and speed.

“So. Eugene. Ever been on a plane before?”

"Course I have, and my name is Flash.”

“Your ID says Eugene. Up here, you have to earn your callsign. Until you have done so, I will address you by your real name. Understood?”  
  
Silence dominated the cabin for a good five seconds. Then Flash snorted into the microphone.

“... what the fuck? My name is-”

“I asked if you understood. Otherwise, this flight ends here.”

Flash murmured something under his breath. Bruce waited, undeterred. Eventually, the teen harrumphed.

“Fine, whatevs.”

Without warning, the L-39 went into a steep climb that sucked the breath out of Flash's lungs. Soon enough, they were at 12,500 feet, going 400 mph, and Bruce went into a series of barrel rolls and tight turns that had his passenger claw left and right of his seat. Flash blinked rapidly.

“Whoa, dude, calm the eff down, I didn't-”

His pilot must not have heard him, because he carried on undeterred, leaving Flash little to no time figuring out left from right. After sheer endless minutes of aerobatics, during which Flash's hands clawed into the frame of the canopy, knuckles white, Bruce's modulated voice came through the speakers, all professional. “We will now go for the so-called v-speed ranges. This includes the never-to-exceed speed range.”

Already shaken, Flash squinted at the color-coded arc on the face of the speed indicator. Its needle steadily moved into the safety-critical area, hovering between yellow and red. “N-no, we don't hav-” Undeterred, Bruce kept on accelerating. “Do you know what this aircraft's maximum operating limit speed is, Eugene?” He sounded maddingly calm and collected. Behind him, Flash erupted in a barely-contained sob.

“No, Sir, please, I-”

“It's 610 mph.”

Something inside the Albatros' cockpit began to beep in warning, and through the haze of panic, Flash saw the words 'OVERSPEED' blink back at him, together with a crescendo of caution indicators. “Nonono! Let me out, please, Sir, Captain Wayne, Sir, I'm sorry! I don't wanna die, please-”

The rest of his sentence drowned in whimpering.

+

Watching the spectacle unfold above their heads as the L-39 barreled through yet another sharp turn and climb maneuver, Tony had trouble containing his grin as he shook his head to himself. Peter was gaping at the performance with his mouth half-open until his instructor nudged his shoulder with a wiggle of his brows. “That's the special treatment for rich, entitled assholes. A Captain Wayne Classic, if you will.”  
  
Peter's eyes flickered from the sky to Tony's smirk and back up. After a few seconds, he, too, was grinning.  
  
“At least it's anything but boring.”

+

Once they were back on the ground, Bruce lent his slightly green and positively shaken passenger a hand. Flash stumbled onto the solid ground, holding onto the side of the aircraft as his equilibrium was still having trouble resetting. There was a distinctive wet spot from the crotch area down to mid-thighs of his flight suit.

“Did you enjoy your flight?”

“Ugh. Hhn.”

“Come again?”

Flash near-squeaked as Bruce made a move towards him.

“Sir, yes, Sir!”

Captain Wayne gave a single, dignified nod.

“Do you feel like you want to go on another trip with Captain Stark just to see if...?”

“No! Hell NO!”

With that, Flash bolted into the direction of the restrooms of the airfield, one hand in front of his mouth.

Tony, who leaned against the hangar's frame, all casual with ankles crossed, had trouble keeping a straight face but managed until Flash was gone from view. Chuckling along, he glimpsed at a puzzled-looking Peter Parker. “Think he wants to come back?” Peter's face did a multitude of emotions all at once before he exhaled with a chuckle. “I... don't know. But I'd love to.”

The Stark-Waynes shared a brief look, then Tony cast the youngest in their midst an honest smile.

“We'll figure something out then, kiddo.”

+

Once the boys were set and ready to leave, with Flash having taken care of his little problem best way he could, Tony gave them a cheeky goodbye, telling them they were welcome to come by again sometime. Bruce stood aside, back in a classic at ease position, and regarded the two boys with an analytical expression. His gaze then zeroed in on his previous passenger.

“Eugene.”

Flash visibly faltered upon the stern voice.

“Sir?”

Bruce's stoic-faced look never wavered.

“The sky may be wide, but it has got no place for overconfidence and arrogance.”

“Yes, Sir.”

+

Once the two boys were a far-away cloud of dust, Tony turned towards his husband with a droll expression and arms folded atop his chest.  
“Poetic waxing, Bats? Really? And just when you think you know a guy. Wow.”  
The teasing was gentle enough for Bruce to let it slide. He unhooked two pairs of chocks from their place on the wall and went to fixate the L-39.

“If Peter wants to become a regular, we gotta see about proper instructor certificates and qualifications.”  
  
His husband gave a soft hum and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his flight suit, eyes twinkling.  
“That means you'll think about it?”  
Straightening back up, Bruce's eyes gazed over the silhouette of the Albatros in the warm hues of the setting sun. And smirked.  
  
“I'll think about it.”

~*THE END*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> L-39 Albatros ride along vids that captured a bit of the 'need for speed' this aircraft inhabits: 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fsq_9jx06Po  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Awdc7BRyTNM  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WK4WZxvdXIw


End file.
